


Big Things

by the_misfortune_teller



Series: Right Where I Belong [16]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: 5+1 Things, Derek likes surprising Stiles, Established Relationship, Fluff, Future Fic, Kid!Fic, M/M, Tattoos, i have a fluff problem, seriously
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-23
Updated: 2013-04-23
Packaged: 2017-12-09 06:58:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,251
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/771349
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_misfortune_teller/pseuds/the_misfortune_teller
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Follow on fic from <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/works/588130/chapters/1057484">I'll Be With You Through The Dark</a>.</p>
<p>5 times Derek surprised Stiles plus 1 time where Stiles didn't surprise Derek.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Big Things

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt: (+various dates) Derek does things, huge important things, without asking him first and is then confused when he freaks out. Prime examples include discussing moving in together instead of staying at each other’s apartments all the time which to Derek meant “go out and buy us a house” or Derek coming home one afternoon with a shifty look on his face before pulling his shirt collar down far enough to show him the tattoo he’s had of both Remy’s name and Stiles’ first name. He sulks until he realises that Derek’s had the tattoo done over his heart, which, fuck, is pretty romantic. He still finds it amusing that all their friends think he’s the impulsive one in this relationship. 
> 
> **or**
> 
> 5 times Derek surprised Stiles plus 1 time where Stiles didn't surprise Derek.

**1\. (House – 6 years, 4 months)**

“Isaac, go away.” Derek orders as he lets himself into Stiles and Isaac’s apartment, holding the door open and nodding to the hall way outside when Isaac doesn’t immediately leap to his feet.

“Kind of busy here,” Stiles mutters, keeping his attention fixed on the screen.

“You’re changing your avatar,” Derek huffs as he continues to glare at Isaac.

“He’s changing Scott’s avatar,” Isaac smirks, “he left himself logged in.”

“Go. Away.” Derek repeats, growling just quietly enough that Stiles won’t be able to hear. Isaac apparently gets the message and gets to his feet, sighing dramatically as he pulls on his sneakers.

“You know, most people would think you were kind of rude for throwing me out of my own apartment.” Isaac tells Derek as he passes him. Derek ignores him and shoves him out into the hallway, slamming the door behind him.

“He’s kind of got a point,” Stiles says, turning off the Xbox and sitting up properly to look at Derek. “There better be some awesome sex related reason for chasing Isaac out of here.”

“Here.” Derek’s holding something out to him, standing between him and the TV with a scowl on his face. It’s not a particularly angry scowl though, more of an anxious one. He likes to pride himself on being able to distinguish between the many flavours of Derek Hale scowls.

“I already have a key to your place.” Stiles frowns as he takes the aforementioned key from Derek. “Wait, did you alpha smash your door down again? Can’t manage doorknobs when you’re all wolfy?”

“It’s not to the loft,” Derek grumbles as he sits down on the couch, dropping Stiles’ abandoned control pad to the floor. “It’s for the house.”

“Your creepy old house in the woods? The one with no doors and three walls? Derek, no one needs a key for that place.”

“You can give it back if you’re just going to make stupid jokes.” Derek snaps, snatching the key back from Stiles.

“I’m – I’m not trying to make jokes,” Stiles begins, frowning at Derek and twisting round on the couch to look at him properly. “I just kind of feel like I might be missing a point here.”

“It’s the key to our house.”

“What?”

“You heard.”

“Yeah, I heard. I’m just really confused. Since when do _we_ have a house?”

“I bought us a house.” Derek mumbles, looking down at his feet.

“You...a house? You bought a house _for us_?”

“Yes.”

“Umm...OK.” Stiles shoves his hand through his hair and gets to his feet. “Did it ever occur to you that maybe that’s the sort of thing you should talk to me about first?”

“You’ve been telling me since you were seventeen that you want to live with me.” Derek replies, wedging his hands in his pockets. “I just – it’s ok if you don’t want to. If you’ve changed your mind.”

“You know I want to. I’m still kind of...wow. A house.”

“It made sense,” Derek continues, still staring down at his boots. “The lease is up on this place soon and I thought – it seemed right, OK?”

“Our lease is up? Why you know when our lease is up? Why don’t I know that our lease is up? That seems like something I should know.” He chews on his fingernail, watching Derek as he pulls his ‘really Stiles?’ face; he’s still got his hands wedged in his pockets, shoulders hunched and his brow furrowed. Stiles hates that look; its Derek’s patented ‘I think I’ve done something wrong and I don’t know how to fix it’ look. It’s the look that still kind of makes Stiles’ heart melt, makes him want to throw his arms around Derek and never let go of him. He’s got a sneaking suspicion that Derek knows that and uses said look to his advantage when it suits him; right now though, he seems genuinely upset.

“Hey,” He says gently, sitting down beside Derek and tugging on his arm until he pulls his hand out of his jacket pocket and grudgingly lets Stiles lace their fingers together. “You know I’m not saying no, right? You get that, don’t you?”

Derek shrugs, still looking uncertain. “You want to come check it out?”

“Fuck yes!”

::

Derek drives them over to the house, located a few blocks away from Scott and Allison’s new place, nervous expression fixed in place the whole way there. He doesn’t relax until Stiles leaps on him in one of the empty bedrooms, wrapping his legs tightly around his waist and telling him how much he loves the place in between eager kisses.

 

**2\. (College – 3 years, 1 month)**

“What have you done and how much should I be expecting to pay?”

Stiles pulled his phone away from his ear and frowned at it. “Wow, thanks Dad, hello to you too. I haven’t done anything. I just wanted to call you.”

“Oh. How’s the studying going?”

“Right now? Going nowhere. You know the worst part? Everyone else has gone out to the bar because they don’t have any assignments due and I’m stuck in the house by myself. Not working on this assignment.”

“Considering you’re still ten months shy of actually being allowed in a bar, that’s probably not a bad thing.” John laughed. “So that’s why you’re calling me? Because all your friends have gone out to play without you?”

“That and Derek isn’t picking up.” Stiles admitted grumpily, pushing his anthropology text book off the bed in frustration. “And he hasn’t been all day. I should probably file a missing persons report, right?”

“Stiles, my deputies have got better things to do than drive around town looking for Derek just because he’s not answering his cell. Hey, maybe he went down to Chico to see Isaac.”

“Nice try. Isaac hasn’t heard from him either. Nor has Scott or Erica or Boyd or anyone. I’m hanging up on you now and I’m going to report him missing. What if he’s been mauled to death by a bear? Or if he’s wandering around the woods with amnesia or something?”

“There are no bears in California. And really? Your boyfriend is a goddamn werewolf and you’re worried about him being mauled by a bear? He’d probably maul the bear.”

“I’m still hanging up on you.” Stiles groused. “You’re not fulfilling your role of supportive parent.”

“Good, I was about to head out to the bar myself anyway.” John laughed. “Love you son.”

“Yeah, yeah. But if Derek has been mauled by a bear, I’m totally holding you responsible and I’ll bear, ha!, a grudge for the rest of my natural life. And don’t eat a whole bucket of wings at the bar again. I’ll find out.”

“Goodbye Stiles.”

“Bye.”

Stiles dropped his phone onto the bed and closed his eyes, resting his head on his folded arms, figuring he’d earned himself the right to nap for a few minutes.

He was woken some time later by someone’s hand in the middle of his back, shaking him gently.

“I don’t want to hear about your drunken exploits.” He muttered, keeping his eyes closed and refusing to lift his head. “You’re all officially the worst roommates ever and I’d appreciate it very much if you fucked off.”

“What drunken exploits?”

Stiles sat bolt upright, a huge smile spreading across his face when he realised it wasn’t Hannah, Toby or Craig shaking him awake, but Derek.

“I am awake right?” Stiles asked, rolling onto his side so Derek could sit down beside him on the bed. “And you’re really real? I’m not having a study induced hallucination?”

Derek leant over and kissed him, sliding one had up and into his hair so he could tug on it lightly. “That feel real?”

“I’d say yes,” Stiles laughed, “but considering some of the epically vivid and pornographic dreams I’ve had about you, I could be wrong.”

“I’m real.” Derek smiled, toeing off his sneakers and lying down. Stiles curled into him immediately, dropping his head down onto Derek’s chest and fisting his hand in his shirt.

“Why are you here? Not that I’m not amazingly pleased that you are, of course.”

“You sounded miserable.”

“How would you know? You haven’t been answering any of my calls.”

“I meant from your text messages,” Derek replied, pressing a kiss against the top of Stiles’ head. “Sorry for not picking up.”

“I was going to file a missing person’s report you know.” Stiles yawned. “In case you’d been mauled by a bear.”

“There aren’t bears in California.” Derek murmured, sounding a little confused. “Why would I have been mauled by a bear?”

“Fuck the bears.” Stiles replied, sliding his hand under Derek’s shirt and tracing his happy trail with his fingers. “The bears can go to hell. You’re here and it’s awesome and fuck everything else. Fuck my stupid assignment. Right in it’s stupid face.”

“That’s a lot of fucking.”

“I’ll be honest, only fucking I’m going to be doing tonight? It’ll be with you.” Stiles laughed, burying his face against Derek’s chest and sighing happily. “On account of you being insanely awesome for driving all the way up here like the most amazing boyfriend ever.”

::

Derek ended up staying for three days, waiting around the house Stiles shared with his college friends on the first day and convincing Stiles to blow off classes on the second and third. They drove up coast, ostensibly to camp overnight as Derek actually had camping equipment in the trunk of the Camaro. They never got around to any real camping and fell asleep on the beach; Stiles did manage to talk Derek into having sex on the hood of the Camaro, which he’d been desperate to try since they first got together. Derek having vetoed having sex on the beach due to sand related issues.

 

**3\. (Dog – 20 years)**

Stiles pulls into the driveway to find Oliver sitting cross legged on the front porch, arms folded and a very Derek-like scowl on his face. He’s always amazed by how often he can see Derek in their children; after all, there’s no reason he should be able to as they’re both adopted. Derek’s very adamant that Remy ‘has Stiles’ eyes’, which again, not really possibly.

“What are you doing on the porch Olli-pop?”

“The dog keeps barking at me. I don’t like it.” Oliver explains grumpily.

“Ol, we don’t have a dog.” Stiles replies, sitting down beside Oliver and pulling him into a hug. “Remember? Your dad said we couldn’t get one.”

“Daddy brung it home!” Oliver wails, pushing Stiles’ arm away and kicking him in the leg. Stiles sighs and gets to his feet, opening the front door and leaving it ajar so Oliver can come back in.

“You realise our child is on the front porch, right?” Stiles calls as he wanders through the house, “having some kind of hallucination about how we’ve got a dog now.”

“Um.”

Derek appears suddenly in the kitchen doorway, guilty expression already firmly in place.

“We have, haven’t we?” Stiles sighs dramatically, dropping his keys down on the side table, “you’ve brought a dog home.”

“Scott called...”

“And gave you a sob story? You’re such a sucker for Scott’s tales of doggy woe.” Stiles laughs, “Have you forgotten about arguing with Rem? About not getting a dog?”

“He was going to get sent to the pound, Stiles.” Derek huffs, walking through the hall and pulling the door fully open. “Ollie, in.”

“No!”

“Ollie, the dog isn’t going to bark at you again,” Derek says softly, crouching down so he’s closer to Oliver’s eye level, “he was just trying to be your friend. That’s his way of talking.”

“He’s all loud and crazy.”

“So is your dad, but you don’t hide on the porch from him,” Derek grins, winking over his shoulder at Stiles, “I’ll make sure he doesn’t bark at you this time. What do you say?”

Oliver gives him an uncertain look, but gets to his feet and tentatively crosses over the threshold and back into the house, leaning heavily against Derek’s shoulder until he puts his arm around him.

“You can pick his name,” Derek adds, lifting Oliver onto his hip and heading towards the back door. Oliver immediately fists his hand in the back of Derek’s shirt, hiding his face in the crook of his neck.

“Can I call him Remy?”

“That might confuse your sister,” Stiles tells him as he follows them through the kitchen, “she wouldn’t know if we were talking to her or the dog.”

“I want to call him Potato then.”

Derek gives a quiet snort of laughter as he opens the door and steps out onto the fenced in deck, Oliver tightening his grip on the back of Derek’s shirt. Stiles trails after them, checking his watch; he needs to pick Remy up from her friend’s house in a little while. Derek’s still talking quietly to Oliver as a small, scruffy dog rushes over to them, barking up at Derek.

“What in the hell is that?”

“That’s, uh, Potato, I guess.” Derek shrugs.

“What’s wrong with it?” Stiles asks with a frown. “Why does it look like that?” The dog, Potato, is clearly a mixture of many, many breeds; the only one of which is immediately obvious to Stiles is probably Corgi. Potato’s legs are so short that his pot belly is nearly brushing the floor.

“He’s got character.” Derek frowns, watching Potato intently until he stops barking. Stiles comes up behind him and rests his hand flat between Derek’s shoulder blades; he can feel the vibrations from whatever low noise Derek is making to silence the dog.

“He’s got no legs.”  

“Stop being mean to the dog,” Derek huffs as he sets Oliver down on the deck and watches as he gingerly pats Potato on the head. “He can’t help the way he looks.”

“You’re such a soft touch,” Stiles laughs, moving closer to Derek and slipping his arms around his waist. “No wonder Scott off loaded him on you. No one else wants a defective dog.”

“Shut up.”

“Make me.”

“Go get Rem,” Derek tells him, giving his hands a squeeze.

Stiles laughs and presses a kiss against the back of Derek’s neck before letting go of him and heading back towards the house.

::

Remy is thrilled to find out they’ve got a dog, less thrilled to find out that her brother got to name him and very unhappy when she finds out Oliver wanted to call the dog Remy. Potato follows Oliver everywhere and sits in the hall crying when he goes off to kindergarten. Remy keeps asking Derek if he can talk dog language on account of being, in her words, sort of like a dog sometimes himself.  If Derek can talk to Potato, he’s not telling anyone what he’s saying. Stiles suspects that Potato is plotting against him for repeatedly judging  and mocking his admittedly ridiculous appearance.

 

**4\. (New York – 2 years, 7 months)**

Stiles punched the Jeep’s steering wheel in annoyance. Of course it had chosen this morning not to start; he was already late for the summer job that he hated. The one that was supposed to help cover the costs of moving out of the dorms and into a house with his college friends. Now it looked like that money would be going towards getting whatever the hell was wrong with the Jeep fixed. He glanced at his watch, figuring he’d have to run back inside and beg Derek to drive him.

“Look, I’m really sorry I’m disturbing your precious beauty sleep,” he started, tripping over his untied shoe lace as he burst back into Derek’s bedroom, “and that you explicitly stated that you were going to do nothing but lay in bed today, but could you give me a ride to work? My Jeep’s died again.”

Derek grumbled his way out of bed, insisting on showering before he went near the car. No amount of Stiles following him into the bathroom and bitching at him seemed to speed him up.

“Dude,” Stiles complained, yanking the shower curtain open, “I’m already late. Are you trying to make me extra late? I can’t afford to get fired!”

“Go wait in the car,” Derek replied, twitching the curtain closed again, “I’ll be down in a minute.”

“Yeah, well, just hurry the fuck up.”

::

“What are you doing here, Stilinski?”

“Look, Steve, I’m really sorry I’m late. I tried to call but I forgot to charge my cell and my car died this morning and...” Stiles started, throwing his backpack into his locker and turning to face his manager.

“You’re not scheduled to work today.”

“What? Yes I am!”

“No, you’re not.” Steve scowled, folding his arms across his chest. “Go home.”

“Can’t I pick up an extra shift? I really need the money.”

“Go home, Stilinski.”

“Fucking fantastic.” Stiles muttered under his breath, snatching his backpack from his locker and storming out of the building. Now he was going to have to, ugh, ride the bus back to Derek’s place.

Except, there was Derek’s car, still parked in the movie theater’s parking lot. He scanned the parking lot for Derek and leant back against the car when he couldn’t immediately see him.

“Here.”

Derek appeared behind him, grinning when he flailed in surprise and offering him a cup of coffee.

“Uh, thanks? Did you know I’m not scheduled to work today? And I got ready and stressed about being late for nothing? I could have continued being all naked in your bed if I’d known that.” Stiles pulled the lid off his coffee and sniffed tentatively at the contents; Derek normally ignored his demands for several shots of syrups but the cup in his hand definitely smelt strongly of hazelnut, caramel and vanilla.

“No you couldn’t.”

“What? Why?”

“We’re not going back to the loft.”

“What do you mean we’re not going back to the loft? Where are we going?”

“New York.”

Stiles spluttered over his mouthful of coffee and frowned at Derek; “Want to run that by me again? Because it sounded a hell of a lot like you just said we’re going to New York.”

“We are,” Derek shrugged, sitting on the hood of the Camaro and casually sipping his own coffee, “I asked your boss to give you the week off.”

“You asked...You’re in cahoots with the tyrant lizard king in there? And he knew? Seriously? New York?”

“Ask more questions.” Derek replied sarcastically, wrapping his arm around Stiles’ waist and pulling him close so he could kiss him. “Yes, we’re going to New York. Yes, your boss knows.”

“When?”

“Now.” Derek shrugged, letting go of Stiles and draining the last of his coffee. “Unless you want to just spend the week hanging out with your dad?”

“Hell no. We’re seriously leaving right now? What about my stuff?”

“Packed it.”

“Of course you did,” Stiles laughed, “because you’re clearly some kind of evil and yet oddly romantic mastermind. Why are you taking me to New York anyway?”

“I miss it, miss the city. I wanted you to see all the places I used to go when I lived there.” Derek shrugged again as he got back in the car. “And your dad said you’ve never been before but you wanted to go, so...” He trailed off, frowning and nodding towards the cup holder when Stiles leant back in his seat.

“My dad knows as well?”

“Yep.”

“Sneaky fucker.”

Derek laughed, snatching Stiles’ coffee from him and wedging it in the cup holder; the latte-all-over-the-Camaro’s-dash incident of October 2013 was still a sore point for Derek. Stiles stuck his tongue out at Derek and shuffled lower in his seat, turning until he was facing Derek and smiling happily at him as they headed towards the highway.

“Hey Derek?”

“Yeah?”

“Can we...”

“No.”

“You don’t even know what I was going to ask.”

“Yes I do. You were going to ask me if we can have sex in the airplane bathroom.” Derek replied with a small frown. “The answer’s no.”

Stiles snorted derisively, confident that it would take him no time at all to change Derek’s mind on that topic.

 

**5\. (Tattoo – 13 years)**

“What have you done?” 

Derek freezes uncomfortably, tightening his grip on the refrigerator door as he stares fixedly at the contents. “What do you mean?”

“You look guilty.” Stiles tells him.

“How can I look guilty when you can’t even see my face?” Derek asks with a frown, closing the refrigerator and turning around to look at Stiles.

“Your ass looks guilty.”

“Where’s Rem?” Derek asks, attempting to change the subject.

“I put her down for a nap. I’ll find out you know. Whatever it is you’ve done.”

“Don’t know what you’re talking about.” Derek huffs. He quickly crosses the room and brushes a kiss against Stiles’ cheek before heading upstairs to Remy’s room. He leans over the crib and gently strokes her cheek as he smiles down at her; it still scares him sometimes, how much he loves his daughter.

“I’ll still argue with you in here.” Stiles mutters, appearing behind him once again and leaning on the door frame. “I’ll just argue quieter.”

Derek sighs, crossing over to where Stiles is standing and grabs hold of his arm, dragging him towards their own bedroom. “You really want to know?”

“Ah ha! So you’re admitting you have done something?” Stiles crows, perking up and watching Derek with interest.

“Don’t freak out.”

“You know saying things like ‘don’t freak out’ is pretty much a guarantee that I will freak out, right?” Stiles frowns, sitting down on the end of the bed as Derek unbuttons his henley before joining him.

Derek huffs and drops his hands into his lap. “I, uh, got a new tattoo.”

“And you’re hiding that from me, why exactly?” Stiles asks, rubbing his hand over where his own favourite tattoo covers his hip, “I like your tattoos. Lemme see.”

Derek frowns again before reaching up and tugging the collar of his shirt down far enough to reveal the left hand side of his chest; Stiles leans in closer, resting his hand on Derek’s thigh.

“Oh no. No, that’s not cool.”

“What?”

“Seriously? My real name? Derek! That’s completely out of order.”

“I like your real name.” Derek shrugs, looking down at his chest. “Everyone calls you Stiles. I wanted this –“ he gestures to the tattoo “– to be more personal, just about us.”

“You could have left it as just Remy’s name.” Stiles grumbles, reaching out to touch it but stopping short before he actually makes contact. He knows how painful it is for Derek to get tattooed; probably more painful than it is for him to get work done because at least his are just good old fashioned ink, no magical, painful herbs needed to make sure they stay. “What if you want to break up with me in the future? And you can’t because you’ve got my stupid name tattooed on your chest?”

“We’re not going to break up,” Derek tells him, wrapping his arms around his waist and pulling at him until they’re lying down on the bed, “because I love you. And I love your stupid name that you can’t even pronounce properly half the time.”

Stiles gives a small huff of laughter, shuffling around so he can rest his head on Derek’s chest, moving his hand until he can feel Derek’s heartbeat; Derek winces slightly as his fingers brushes over the new tattoo.

“Oh of course you got it over your heart,” he smiles, leaning up and kissing Derek on the cheek, “fucking romantic.”

“Shut up.”

“Don’t be cheesy then,” he laughs, sliding his hand under the hem of Derek’s shirt and sighing happily.

“I’m cheesy? You’ve got a goddamn anchor tattooed on your arm,” Derek reminds him, “that’s corny.”

“That’s only corny to, like, nine people. You’re going to have to explain to everyone why you’ve got _that_ tattooed on your chest and then they’ll think you’re corny and lame and romantic as all hell...what was my point?” he trails off, pressing a quick kiss against Derek’s neck.

“That you love me?”

“Damn straight.”

Derek raises an eyebrow at that and hugs him tightly.

“Figure of speech,” Stiles grumbles, pinching Derek’s stomach when he laughs at him. “Maybe I’ll get your name tattooed on my ass.”

“Yeah, maybe you won’t.”

  **+1. (Various – Various dates)**

Stiles can’t seem to sneak anything by Derek, although not for lack of trying. It’s not even a case of not being able to; more a case of Derek’s betas are all pains in the ass and spill any secrets and surprises he tries to hide within minutes.

He considers it a win when he can sneak up behind Derek in the longue and bite the back of his shoulder, although he has a niggling little doubt that Derek is always aware he’s there and lets him get away with it to feel better.

Doesn’t matter. He loves him for it.

::

Stiles might not be able to surprise Derek in the same way Derek likes to surprise him, because even if Derek couldn’t hear when he’s lying, Stiles gets too excited when he’s planned something nice for Derek and ends up blurting out whatever he’s planned within minutes.

What does surprise him, on a daily basis, is how much he loves Stiles, and how much Stiles loves him.

**Author's Note:**

> [tumblr](http://the-misfortune-teller.tumblr.com/) and all that jazz!


End file.
